Reprieve
by Zennith6
Summary: At the brink of living and dying, in the moment before choosing either to return or to pass on forever, Harry Potter is given a moment away from it all by a mysterious red headed woman. One single moment, to simply lie back and just... breathe.


A/N: This one-shot was written for DLP's January Writing Competition. Enjoy!

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**REPRIEVE**

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~.~.~.~

I could taste sand on my tongue. That was the first thing I noticed as I awoke, my body flattened on the crest of a great ocean. I took a deep breath and for a moment just lay there on the sand, half in the water and half out.

I took a second breath.

And then I began to crawl. On my stomach I pulled myself forward, willing myself to stand – but I could not find the strength. Yet still I managed to drag my limply responding body completely from the salty tide that still at moments lapped at my feet. I almost sighed as my toes curled around sand and earth for the first time in what felt like a century.

I could almost taste the salty pools collecting in the corner of my eyes – I felt a moment of such happiness – until I realized just how much pain I was in.

Rolling over on to my side I felt the dull throbbing of ancient wounds groan in symphony with the new sharp protests of my bones and back. White heat burned in each engaging muscle hotter than the last, my head swan as I was almost blessed with a swift return to the unconscious void.

But I wasn't so lucky. Completing the roll I now found myself looking up to a gray and endless sky – light barely streaming in through openings few and far between. The soft rumble of thunder felt almost soothing as I lay, the sand soft and inviting, I had no desire to move from the spot.

It was peaceful.

The moment before though, was not. It was hazy, confusing, and I couldn't remember much. Images and sounds of an empty train station, of a baby's cry, of voices that were maddeningly familiar all flitted through my head in quick succession. I couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. Even my name, even my name seemed lost.

I couldn't bring myself to care.

Because this was the most comfortable I'd ever been. Or at least, I couldn't imagine there being a place that would put me more at ease.

The fact that I had no idea how I'd washed up on this shore, how I'd attained these injuries, it didn't seem to matter. Not to me.

There was shouting, too. I could remember that. A great green light that seemed to encompass everything that ever was and ever would be… high pitched laughter – almost childlike. These were some of the things I thought and remembered as well.

But still, there was no putting it together.

Another clap of thunder jolted me from my introspective thoughts. It was louder, nearer. The clouds would open up soon.

And on cue, fresh drops began to fall, tiny droplets splashing about me and on me and I welcomed them. The water was clear and clean, a stark contrast to the hazy depths of the ocean that lay at my feet. I closed my eyes and put my palms up to the heavens and let the clear rivulets run down my arms and through my fingers.

The weight of my arms, though, was too much and I had to let them fall. I gave a little sigh and let my eyes stay closed – and soon enough I returned to darkness. But on my own terms, which was for some reason important to me.

I can't say what I dreamed, only that I dreamed something. The dream felt real, people and places I should have known. But it was scrambled, and I knew nothing certain in my dream other than that I was indeed dreaming.

How long I was asleep I do not know.

I do know, however, that when I awoke I was no longer on the beach. Instead I found myself in crisp linen sheets in a small but cozy bed that seemed designed to fit me personally.

I was also no longer alone.

Long locks dusted red framed a young but knowing face; the girl's green eyes kind as she looked at me – simply, frankly. She was slight bodied, not particularly tall. She smiled lightly as I looked at her. Rather than say anything, I surveyed the rest of the room, deciding to let her tell me what she would. I was in no hurry.

The walls were a light shade of blue, very calming – a few windows on the wall directly ahead, I spied through them the very body of water from which I'd emerged now harmless – probably a kilometer away at least. It could not touch me here. The room was sparsely decorated, but I didn't mind. It was functional, certainly.

And then there was the girl. Still looking at me with her slight smile. I hesitated for a moment, but then smiled back. Why not?

The sound of rain was present, too. I guessed I couldn't have been asleep for very long – looking out the storm still seemed to be on the horizon. Unless I'd simply slept through one storm and now we were on to the next. It wouldn't have surprised me.

Finally, she spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

Her voice was rich but with a lilt that seemed naturally present in her tone. There was also concern in her words, I could detect that much.

"I'm okay." I answered hoarsely.

It was the first time I'd spoken since I'd been washed ashore, and somehow I sounded… different. Older? I wasn't sure what it was.

She nodded. "Good, I'm glad. You seemed a little worse for the wear."

I nodded. "I was. Thanks for bringing me in."

She gave me another smile. "Of course."

"How did you make it? It seems the shore is a bit of a ways off, I can't weight that little. Must've been difficult."

The girl simply shrugged. "I managed."

I smiled. "I'm glad you did."

"Are you hungry?" She asked suddenly.

It took me a moment, but I did come to realize that yes, I was indeed hungry. I nodded. Without another word she swept out the doorway, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my questions.

Later, after eating, I sat on the edge of my bed while she sat in the lone white wooden chair that she'd been seated on before. The rain was pounding heavier now, the sound of thunder coming closer and closer and closer…

We were silent for several minutes, just us, just listening.

And then she started to speak.

"I love the rain." She said first. "I always have. Just the sound of it – the patter it makes on the ground of the roof – puts me to sleep if I give it half a chance. And out on the shore I watch the ripples – each one melting into the others – the other ripples – until there's nothing left of the individual waves, they've become a part of the whole until the next drop falls. This happens over and over again hundreds of times in a single second all over the water's surface. I watch them fall and it is mesmerizing. I could sit for hours, if it weren't for the fact that the droplets also fall on me, and it's cold. It's a small price to pay at first but it begins to wear until I have to go inside. But I never want to, it's always with remorse."

She sighed for a moment. I was going to respond, I was going to say something (I don't know what) but before I could she started up again.

"There's this story – this story I dreamed over the course of several nights – I don't usually remember my dreams, but this time how could I forget? It's about this boy, this young boy – or maybe he just looks young. And he's been sailing, riding at sea for days, maybe weeks, completely alone. And he's sailing away from his home, from his family, away from everything he's recognized or known. He's out in search of something – at the very least adventure. But most of all he wants something new. This boy faced remarkable pressure in his life; it was very much to live up to. And it isn't that he didn't love his friends, and it isn't as if he hated where he was from. But there comes a time, he felt, where a person has to strike out on his own, has to put his knowable past behind him in order to start finding out just who he is going to be in the future. And this, I think is true, he felt that if a person always lives within their comforts, if a person relies on a schedule they've crafted over years and never breaks from the routine – this person will never find out who they could have become, or what they could have accomplished. So this boy (I never learned his name) took this boat – a small, rickety thing not meant for more than two – and set out from shore along the tide. I'll never know why he didn't simply walk or take a bus, but I do know that boats are more poetic.

And he floated out there for weeks, for longer than he had anticipated, but no matter what direction he was sailing in he could not find even an inch of dry land. What he didn't know; what this boy could not have known was that the reason for his struggle was not because he was lost. The land was there, but it had been swallowed. There were many moments where the boy could have spotted land in a heartbeat – if he had just looked down. For after his second day at sea, all over the world it had begun to rain. And the rain had been continuous, it would not deign to cease. The rivers swelled and the lakes overflowed and across the world the water began to consume everything – rolling waves would collapse across the fields and planes – people everywhere were unprepared and so most of them went down with the ship that had once been their house or car.

Somehow, throughout this all, the boy's craft stayed afloat. And when the rains slowed and the one sea that was now the world calmed – there he was. The boy was alone – surrounded by pure and peaceful blue in every direction.

This is where the first dream stopped."

She trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked softly.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It felt like something you should know."

I nodded slightly.

"Are you going to tell me the rest of the story?"

She smiled. "Maybe later."

She turned and lifted the tray from my lap – the tray I'd been eating from – and carried it away, leaving me once again on my own.

I tilted my head and watched her go with a certain sense of… well; I couldn't find a good way to describe it. My head hurt.

But I found myself pondering her story – for some reason it grabbed me and I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what happened. For what could one person, alone, do when the world itself has been swallowed up, when the world has vanished, never to return to what it once was? It was only a dream, a story. But I wanted to know.

There was a loud crash from above and instinctually I looked up – it seemed the thunder was right above us now. The rainfall grew heavier with each passing second, and for a moment I worried that the roof itself might give in.

Over it all I could hear the girl's footsteps as she walked back in. This time she didn't sit.

I sat up straighter as she looked me over.

"What's your name?" She asked suddenly.

And I realized then for the first time since first awakening that I could not remember. It bothered me more this time around.

"I don't know." I answered honestly.

She shrugged again, as she seemed prone to doing. "How much do you remember?"

"Not very much. Jumbled images and sounds and voices – it doesn't mean much of anything."

"It will come back to you." She said with certainty. "Don't dwell. It does nobody any good to dwell."

I nodded – not necessarily convinced, but there was no point in arguing about it.

"What's your name?" I asked in response.

She smiled. "It isn't all that important."

There was a momentary pause, and then she suddenly switched gears. "Are you tired? You look tired."

I found myself nodding, almost without even realizing it. And as I did, as I nodded, I felt the world was a little heavier than before.

I found myself… drifting.

And in a minute more –

I was asleep.

It was the best sleep I ever had.

And I remember waking, almost still in a haze of bliss, and just feeling so much like any and all weight had been lifted.

And the rain had stopped.

So we found ourselves, the girl and I, sitting by the ocean – on a different spot from where she'd found me. It was higher up on a cliff and we could let our legs dangle.

The breeze was slight, and the air was just that pleasant temperature – no jacket was needed, but there was no chance of sweating.

We sat there for a while not really saying anything. The girl's hair rustled in the occasional breeze, and she did not try to tame it. I found myself alternating between looking at the ocean and looking at her. I was sure she noticed, but she didn't comment on it.

I looked back to the house I'd been sleeping in for however long it had been – time was strangely hard to track – and smiled. It was quaint; it looked far smaller from the outside than it appeared on the inside. The shutters were eggshell blue, complimenting the white of the rest of the exterior – it was exquisite in its simplicity. The grass around it was well manicured, a natural green without a tint of brown.

I turned back to her only to find her gaze already settled on me. I raised an eyebrow, naturally she shrugged. But she didn't look away.

Then she broke the silence.

"Why don't you have more questions?"

I looked at her for a moment before responding.

"I do. I'm sure that I do. Any time I stop and think about it… I have plenty."

The girl furrowed her brow. "So why don't you ask them?"

"I plan to," I said, "but at the same time, everything just seems so… I don't know, nice. I mean, comfortable. And I find myself not really caring. I should. I still don't even know who I am. That should be a problem, that should bother me – and it does. But not as much as I fell like it should."

She almost smiled. "It is nice here. I try to keep it nice."

"Why? I mean, so far you're the only one I've seen."

She nodded. "That's true."

"You take care of all of this?"

She nodded once more.

I shook my head. "I don't know how. Seems like a lot. It seems lonely."

She smiled genuinely then. "I honestly don't think too much on what it is or isn't. It doesn't really matter much, after all."

"Doesn't matter?"

The breeze picked up then, and I could feel a drop of water land squarely on my forehead. Seeing this, the girl giggled – a surprisingly ordinary sound I'd not yet heard from her. I couldn't help myself, I started chuckling also.

"It's starting to rain again." She said matter-of-factly.

I smiled. "So it appears."

"Should we go inside?"

It was my turn to shrug. "If you want. I don't mind the rain."

She nodded and turned out over the cliff – I followed her gaze to the horizon's edge. Clouds had begun to roll in but we could still see the stark orange of the setting sun, a magnificent sight augmented by the purple hues the clouds about it seemed to take, almost in conflict with the darkness rolling in from elsewhere.

And as I watched the dark clouds come I felt in my heart a sense of foreboding, of longing, of need – visions flickered through my mind, the same as when I'd first awoken on the beach, stretched out on the sand. My thoughts shifted quickly, and suddenly those things I'd mentioned to her as not being so much a problem suddenly stood out in my mind.

Where was I? What was I doing here? And how in the hell had I washed up on the shore alone and without any knowledge of where I came from save for these extremely unhelpful visions?

I could see lightning on the edge of what was visible, far off over the ocean. I looked and saw the girl's eyes were trained out on that very spot, intensity in them that I'd not yet seen. And when she spoke, there was an edge apparent beneath the softness of her tone.

"I'd like to stay. I want to see the storm, to watch it come. Have you ever done that?"

"Not that I can remember," I answered honestly.

She took my hand then, clasped it tightly. I looked at her, but she wasn't looking at me. She was still following the storm. I turned back to it as well to see that the single bolt had multiplied – lighting strikes over the horizon were becoming more and more frequent.

The looming intensity of the scene struck me then, the sure gusts of wind that swept the hair back and out of my companions face compliment well the starkness of the sea, the individual blades of grass that has suddenly sharpened in my vision.

It was as if the focus on the scene, on my situation, had shifted suddenly into a sharper focus, every line was clear, every ripple precise.

She stood up, letting go of my hand as she did.

"I don't think it'll come. At least not yet."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? The storm?"

She nodded.

"It seems to be moving in our direction. Quickly, too."

She shook her head. "Look again. It was, but now it seems to have… stopped, I suppose. In any case, it doesn't seem to be coming any closer."

I looked again, peering through the clouded expanse, and found to my surprise that she was right, the clouds were no longer moving and the lighting was less frequent. I turned to her.

"What happened? That doesn't seem normal."

"It doesn't, does it?" She answered softly.

I shook my head. "I don't understand this place."

She took my hand again, this time her grip was not so firm. "Let's go. We have some time."

I looked at her in confusion. "Some time? What do you mean?"

"I mean, we have some time until the storm comes. You still want to watch it, don't you?"

I nodded slowly. "I guess."

She smiled. "Good. For the moment, let's get inside. You're soaked."

I looked down at my clothes and realized with some surprise that I was, indeed, soaked.

"Huh. I hadn't noticed."

"You've got to take care of yourself! You'll catch a cold."

I nodded slightly and followed her as she walked back towards the house.

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"So tell me what happened." I said while we were both seated at her table, I over a steaming mug of tea, her over a small bowl of some sort of soup.

"What do you mean?" She asked without looking up – she was stirring the contents of the bowl lightly.

I took a sip myself before responding. "I mean, the dream you told me about, the story. I liked it, and I'm curious to know more."

She nodded lightly. "It's fascinating, isn't it? A story that keeps being told in your dreams… over and over, each dream adding on to the next… I don't know how those things usually work, but it seemed at least odd, certainly interesting.

I nodded. "I agree. That's why I'd like to hear more."

"Where did I stop last time?" She asked, finally taking a spoonful and tasting it gingerly.

"If I recall correctly, the rains, the torrential rains had just stopped. And he'd found himself stranded, just… there. In his boat. With no one and nothing for miles."

It was her turn to nod. "I remember."

She paused for a moment, and I did not interrupt her as she took another spoonful from the bowl.

Another moment passed in silence before she spoke.

"He was there, on his boat – a small thing, really, barely big enough for him. And there's no way of knowing how long he was out there – the rains had stopped and still he was just sort of… floating. And there was no way for him to know in which direction he should travel. While he didn't know the whole world was that way, he could almost guess.

He was exhausted, his clothes were wet and torn from the wind and debris, he had few supplies left, and while he'd gotten through the rain, he was quite convinced that he would die out there, on the ocean. Completely alone."

She paused for a moment. "Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be face to face with death?"

I nodded slowly. "I feel like I have."

"And have you ever prayed for deliverance, against all hope?"

It was my turn to pause.

"No. I don't think I ever managed to reach that phase."

She continued, "Well, it was at that moment, when the boy had just about lost all hope that anything could be changed, that he could find a way to get through his situation and go on living – it was at the very moment where he lost all hope that suddenly he saw something."

"What was it?" I asked softly.

She smiled. "It was a bird."

I tilted my head. "A bird?"

"Yes. He saw a white gull – it was far off, but there it was. Making circles against the light blue backdrop."

I nodded. "Land."

"Yes," she said with relish, "land. The bird could only mean one thing. Of course, birds can fly out over the water and over the oceans, but they must always have a place to go, a home to return to where they can rest. And so the boy turned tattered sail and followed the bird to land."

I thought for a moment. "But he was still alone."

She nodded. "He was. And on the piece of land he's found there were no signs of civilization. It turned out, the place he'd found – it was an island. Much like this one, in fact. With no other human presence. There were trees and grasses and birds, of course. He knew he could survive there. It was comfortable, it was safe. He faced no real threat anymore. He knew that there, he could live.

Alone.

And of course, he could wait for others, he could hope that an arc would arrive bringing with it a human population – but what were the odds? And he still did not know the full situation; he only knew that there had been rain, there had been weeks and weeks of rain, and that where there should have been land there was none."

She paused and I took a quick sip of my tea, which had become only slightly warm.

"So what did he do?" I asked quietly.

"He made the only decision he could – the only thing that made sense to him. Rather than live his whole life hoping for rescue or, at the very least, company – he decided to set out again. Of course, he took as much as he could with him, but he knew he was taking a risk.

But if you're only choice is between a lifetime of loneliness and the possibility of finding either your people or death, which would you choose?"

I nodded. "I understand."

"And so he set out again. He left the island."

"You remember this dream well," I noted passively.

"I do. I don't know why."

I looked at the girl for a moment before speaking. "So what happens?"

She didn't answer as she stood up, bringing her bowl to the sink in the kitchen. She began to hum lightly to herself as she rinsed the bowl out. I stood up and followed her in.

"Did he find another place?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never known the ending."

"So why tell me a story that you don't know?"

She looked at me blankly. "I know as much of it as anybody does."

I shook my head. "But it doesn't mean anything."

She shrugged again. "Was it supposed to? I just found it interesting."

I frowned. I was frustrated. "What do you think happened to him? The boy, I mean."

She didn't answer for a moment as she set the bowl she'd been using upon the counter. She walked back to the table and took my cup.

"Are you finished?"

I nodded silently. She took the cup and proceeded to wash it in the same way she had her bowl.

"What do you think happened?" I asked again. I wasn't sure why I was so stuck on this – it was only a story, admittedly a dream which didn't likely mean anything at all. But still… I wanted to know.

She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I can't just make up an ending."

"Why not?" I asked.

"It wouldn't mean anything! It wouldn't be the same story, it would have no significance."

I clenched my teeth, frustrated. "So why start with the story in the first place? What was the point? And why won't you tell me anything? About this place, who you are?"

I stood up and turned away from her.

"What are you doing?"

I glanced back at her over my shoulder. "I'm tired of this. I'm leaving."

"Where will you go?"

I walked towards the front door. "It doesn't matter. I just need to go somewhere. I've got to find someplace to be. I don't even know who I am, I can't stay this way."

"I'm only trying to help," she said as she took several steps towards me, eyes pleading.

I held out a hand to stop her. "Look. Maybe you are. But you're not, not right now. I just…"

"Don't go. Please don't go."

We made eye contact.

"Tell me who you are." I said softly, plainly.

Her voice was soft when she answered, "I can't."

Without another word I turned back to the door and swung it wide. Without pause I ventured out from the house and started running. I couldn't think of anything else to do, and so I ran. Not away from her so much as towards something – I didn't know what.

And as I did, I noticed the clouds were much darker than before – a night was falling that I had yet to see… up until that point it had only been day, despite the rains.

And as soon as I thought of rain water began to pour down, the clouds opened up upon me. I covered my head with my arms as I continued running. My mind was buzzing and I kept thinking and thinking and asking myself all sorts of questions.

A baby crying.

An old man, his long white beard.

The empty train station.

These images were flooding my mind and I couldn't place them, I couldn't place a single thing about them other than that I knew I should be able to.

A green light –

It filled my vision as I tripped and fell into the muddy sand of the beach – I'd found myself back where I'd begun here. The winds were swirling now, there was lighting and thunder, the rain was heavier than I'd ever experienced.

I could hear the echoing of high pitched laughter on the wind.

I tried to stand, but a gust pushed me down. I tried again to no avail.

I lay there as the rain pounded upon me, unable to stand, unable even to speak – my mind was a rash of incoherent thought.

And then, suddenly, my burden was lightened, and I found myself standing.

The girl with the red hair.

She pulled me to my feet with ease, and without pause began to half pull, half drag me through the rain and away from the beach.

"Run!" She shouted over the cacophony of thunder, and I tried my best. She did not let go of my hand, and I felt her pull me with strength I could hardly imagine.

I do not know for how long we ran, only that when we finally stopped we found ourselves upon a large cliff overlooking the sea.

Or at least that's what it should have been.

We were high up, high enough to see that the beach we'd only just come from was now covered with water – the home in which I'd slept and she'd lived had been carried away.

The flood waters were rising with the intensity of the storm, as if magnified by some unseen force.

Nature was coming for us.

I could see from that point the water below us steadily rising. The whole of the land was being swallowed up – we had nowhere to go.

"What can we do?" I shouted to her.

She shook her head for a moment, clutched my hand tightly, but did not answer.

I took a deep breath, my hair was stuck to my face, water was dripping into my eyes, my clothes were heavy and the wind cut through me more and more deeply with every gust.

We were going to die.

It didn't seem we had any other option.

The water was almost level with the cliff, I could see it coming on all sides – there was nothing left of land save where we stood.

I looked to her again, her strands of hair blowing in the wind, almost defying the rain which never seemed to touch them. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed. I tried to speak to her, but found before I could that had held up a hand to silence me.

Turning away I looked to the waters. There was no time left. The foaming froth of the tide was rising steadily – we were soon to be swept away, there was no hope to be had, not that I could find.

And just when I was sure of that, and the waters had risen up as if to collapse upon us in a biblical wrath –

The waters stopped. Suspended in air, the sphere of earth upon which we stood suddenly rose up, and an invisible shield seemed to be holding back the flood. The sound of the storm had faded, and while it was clear the storm was still raging about us, suddenly we seemed… protected. The rain was no longer touching us, and the winds that blew the waters every which way could not reach us.

I looked at the girl.

Her eyes were open – brilliant green presenting a solid front, challenging the power of nature itself. And I knew then that we were alive only because of this girl's power, this woman's stubbornness. She would not let us go.

"What did you do?" I asked softly.

She almost smiled. "I'm protecting you."

I nodded with wonder.

She spoke again, her tone harsh, but somehow still comforting. It was clear she was struggling mightily.

"In a moment, Harry, the waters will part – just for you. You will walk from this place, into the clearing. No matter what you see, no matter what appears to happen, just keep walking."

Harry.

My name.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she started first. "There is no time for questions. I know you have many, and I'm sorry we don't have more time. When you walk, you will eventually find yourself back where you belong. It will be as if no time has passed at all."

I shook my head. "I don't understand."

She smiled slightly despite the obvious strain. Her skin was becoming more and more pale, her hair was starting to dim. Her eyes, however, remained vivid – defiant.

"You will, someday. At least I hope. But I cannot maintain this for very long. Suffice it to say, Harry, that this place – this place that I created for you… we are out of time, here. Out of nature. This island – you could think of it as a bubble."

I took a step towards her. I could feel a shudder pass through me – as I saw one pass through her. The storm was rising up again; I could see it preparing for a strike, almost as if sentient.

"I don't understand, still. What do you mean you created this place?"

"A place like this shouldn't exist. A person living couldn't have managed it. When you return home you'll be returning to a world of pain, a world of despair and death and war. The chaos you'll encounter will test you. You've already been tested. I created this place because I knew that, while you could do this on your own, you deserve so much more.

The world has been hard for you, Harry. The world will continue to be hard for you. And you must return to it. I just wanted you to have some sense of… peace. A real moment of complete peace, where there were no demands upon you. You could simply… be.

I broke the rules. And since you've appeared here the nature of things, the natural order has been struggling to right itself. You've seen it yourself; you fought through it simply to arrive in this place to begin with. But I could not hold on forever.

I just want you to remember, so that when you return, no matter where you go and what you encounter, you'll have this place inside you, and you will always be safe in the ways that truly matter.

I just want you to remember."

It was that moment that I saw the waters part for me. A wall on either side, held up by an unseen force.

"Go!" she shouted.

And before I could say anything I found myself running, a new feeling of strength inside of me. I ran and ran towards that opening. I passed through the sphere and feared the worst; that I would be swallowed up.

But no, I was still safe. I was still protected. I turned back – her eyes were closed now, her skin almost appeared to be crawling, the red of her hair was almost completely faded.

I wanted to go back to her.

I took a step. A step back to her.

But I remembered what she said – I had to keep going, otherwise this would all be for nothing. I swallowed hard.

Suddenly, her eyes opened, she smiled –

And the tide claimed her.

I tried to shout but there was nothing. I watched in dismay as the ground was carried away, her body vanishing under the froth.

I shouted again, but to no avail.

She was gone. And there was nothing I could do.

Steeling myself, I turned back to my path – I knew somehow that I didn't have much time.

I ran.

I ran.

I ran through the passage, I could hear the running water behind me, always threatening to claim me.

As I ran, I began to remember.

My name.

Harry Potter.

Magic.

And there were faces, friends and family –

King's Cross and Albus Dumbledore.

Still I ran, still there was water.

Hermione, Ron.

The waves crashed behind me, I could hear them coming. I couldn't hope to outrun them. And still visions passed through my head, through my mind.

Voldemort.

The name conjured within me what should have been hate. Somehow, though, it wasn't that.

It was pity.

I ran and ran and ran.

But there was no escaping. I came to realize that.

And I accepted it. With a deep breath I turned to face the onrushing ocean.

And I smiled as the waters took me.

.

.

.

.

.

I was lying face down on the ground again. The smell of the forest filled my nostrils. The ground was cold and every inch of me ached, was in pain. I'd been to hell and back, it felt like. My mind felt heavy, slow.

I could hear muttered voices around me.

Where was I?

For a moment I contemplated standing. But the hissing and hurried footsteps, the people. Something inside me urged caution.

I could hear a woman's voice, tinged with fear.

"My lord… _my Lord_…"

There was silence, for a moment. People were huddled around another body on the ground, one, though, that was rising shakily to its feet. There were more voices, so many voices.

And then… and then something happened. It felt like a flash of light that no one else noticed. My eyes were closed, but still I could see everything.

I remembered.

I remembered it all.

I remembered Dumbledore, the creature, our conversation at King's Cross.

But most of all, I remembered my mother and her island.

I took a deep breath.

And then I smiled.

.

.

.

**END**


End file.
